


Flat Soda

by yours_eternally



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Biting, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28634487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yours_eternally/pseuds/yours_eternally
Summary: ‘Get off me, cock-sucker,’ Joey grunts through his teeth. Corey huffs a breath but doesn’t let go of him, pushing into Joey’s touch instead. Joey feels his breath catch as Corey rocks his hips into his hand. Joey squeezes him warningly but Corey just laughs, grinding his hips down.‘If you wanted to touch my dick, baby, all you needed to do was ask,’ Corey says, and Joey doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s smirking.Joey's just trying to have a quiet cigarette but Corey has other ideas.
Relationships: Joey Jordison/Corey Taylor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	Flat Soda

Joey tucks the cigarette he’d bummed from one techs behind his ear as he looks for a good foothold. It’s nearly four am and he’s not sure why he’d decided to scale the scaffolding to get up to the narrow walkway above the stage. Maybe something about the view. Maybe something about why the fuck not. 

Joey hooks his foot into one of the metal bars and scrambles his way up. When he gets to the top he can see the whole of the churned-up field sprawled out below him. Devoid of people it could be the site of a battle. He lets his sneakers dangle, swing them back and forth, his boilersuit pulling up slightly to show an inch or so of his pale leg above his socks. 

The floodlights are on like it's game day instead of after the show and there’s already a handful of people trotting about, on their own or in pairs, picking up trash. He watches them picking up one thing at a time and wonders if it's soothing as it looks; as endless as a four/four rhythm. 

He retrieves the cigarette, holding it between his lips to light. He needs to buy another pack but hadn’t been bothered earlier to walk the less than 100 yards to the gas station. 

Joey can just about hear the music from the after-party backstage. But he’s not really in the mood; the lack of sleep has really started catching up with him these past couple of days. And there’s only so much bitching the rest of equally sleep-deprived guys will put up with. 

Joey sits up, pulling his legs in, digging his lighter out of his pocket. With the lighting rig, there’s just enough space for him to sit cross-legged and not hit his head. He takes a drag, taking a moment to enjoy his cigarette in silence watching the people moving steadily across the field. He wasn’t sure he could remember the last time he’d been alone since they’d started the tour — other than to take a shit (and frequently not even then). 

He takes another drag, exhaling smoke through his nose as he scratches the back of his head. He’s sweating. He hadn’t had the energy to shower after the show, and now he’s regretting it. His stage clothes are so fucking hot and none of the heat had gone out of the day despite the sun being long set. He pulls down the zip on his boilersuit past his navel, he’s shirtless beneath it and takes another drag.

There’s a noise behind him and Joey glances down only to flinch when he sees Corey’s gross Micheal Myres mask moving rapidly towards him, sparse dreadlocks swaying as he climbs. 

‘Fuck, man,’ he grunts, wriggling back to make room for Corey as his chipped black nails appear on the side. Corey yanks himself up. Joey spots that he’s got a pack of cigarettes between his teeth and a bottle of jack jammed down the front of his suit making him look like a bright orange kangaroo. 

‘What’re you doing up here?’ Corey asks, kneeling next to Joey hooking one hand through the metal rig above their heads. 

‘Nothing,’ Joey says, letting Corey take a drag from the cigarette in his hand. Corey snorts smoke at him and Joey can see the light reflecting off the whites of his eyes as Corey looks him over. Then Corey leers at him reaching over to pinch his nipple before Joey can swot him off. 

‘Fuck _off_ ,’ he growls and Corey laughs as Joey shoves him. But Corey falls back further than Joey’s expecting, arms whirling in the empty air and Joey has to grab him by the collar to prevent him falling back to the stage below, neck first. As soon as he has his balance Corey pushes Joey back, shoving his hand inside his suit again trying to grab as much as Joey’s bare flesh as he can. 

Joey starts to laugh helplessly as he wrestles with Corey, swearing through his teeth as he tries to shove him off his ticklish spots. Corey’s laughing too, heavy grunting laughs, hot on Joey’s face as Corey lays heavy on his chest. Joey pushes at him trying to get him off, turning his head to the side to pant in some air. 

‘Joe—’ Corey starts over Joey’s choked laughter. ‘Joe,’ he says again and Joey can feel his hands warm on his chest. He smells like shit, but Joey probably does as well. Corey’s warm weight is starting to feel really fucking good where he’s laying between Joey’s thighs. But the bottle of Jack is digging painfully into his hip and Corey’s breath is too hot on his neck. 

‘What?’ Joey says. Corey lowers his head and Joey realises what’s happening; ‘ _—dude_ , gross, no way, stop.’ Joey’s not so turned on yet that he's willing to kiss Corey’s disgusting mask. Corey gives another grunting laugh, he’s got one hand tight around Joey’s wrist. But he’s made the mistake of not grabbing the other. So Joey shoves it between his legs and grabs him by the balls. Joey feels Corey stiffen and knows he’s won. 

‘ _Get_ off me, cock-sucker,’ Joey grunts through his teeth. Corey huffs breath but doesn’t let go of him, pushing into Joey’s touch instead. Joey feels his breath catch as Corey rocks his hips into his hand. Joey squeezes him warningly but Corey just laughs, grinding his hips down.

‘If you wanted to touch my dick, baby, all you needed to do was ask,’ Corey says, and Joey doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s smirking. 

‘Fuck you,’ Joey says but laughs, letting him go. Corey makes no move to get off him.

‘Can we—’ Corey starts pulling at Joey’s half-open boilersuit again. ‘Like this—’ he says, squirming a hand down between them and into Joey’s underwear.

‘ _Dude_ ,’ he grumbles but Corey ignores him, bowing his head to nuzzle him again. The smell turns Joey’s stomach. ‘—take the fucking mask off and I’ll think about it,’ Joey grits out, pushing on his shoulder. Corey snorts, not letting go of Joey’s cock but using his other hand to yank the mask off and drop it over the edge of the platform they’re laying on, down onto the stage. 

He looks sweaty, his hair is kinked and sticking up. There’s still the remnants of his black stage make-up smeared around his eyes and in his waterline. Before Joey can speak, Corey starts to kiss him. And his hand starts to jerk his cock roughly. Joey bites his lip. Corey’s clumsy hand job is starting to set his pulse hammering as a hot flush sprawls down his thighs. 

‘ _C’here_ ,’ Joey says, sliding his hand between Corey’s thighs again. He’s clumsy too, fumbling for Corey’s cock through the fabric of his boilersuit and starting to stroke him. Joey exhales, feeling Corey’s mouth pressing sloppy kisses down his neck to his chest. Sweet _fuck_ , this is a bad idea. He’s stupid. Corey’s stupid. They are both so fucking _stupid_ for letting this happen. _Again_. 

Joey groans as Corey presses on him heavily again, working himself against Joey's hands as much as Joey is stroking him. His pulls at Joey’s cock as getting rougher as well, and it feels so fucking good Joey’s practically biting through his lip. Corey mumbling into his ear, mouthing his jaw and sucking his earlobe. 

‘You’re so fucking hot,’ Corey slurs against his skin and Joey tells him to _shut the fuck up_ , kissing him hard, biting his lip, pulling his hair. Corey grunts. Joey can feel the thick muscles in his thighs flexing as he fucks himself into Joey’s hand. Joey can feel his breath against his cheek, damp and scalding, as his gut gives a vicious twist. 

He moans, muffled by Corey’s tongue in his mouth. Corey moans right back, increasing the speed of his strokes until Joey’s sure he’s going to pass out. He’s too hot. He’s too sensitive. And he’s so close fucking coming he’s going to lose his fucking mind. Joey hisses, baring his teeth as he feels all his muscles snap taut at once as he comes. The orgasm overwhelms his body, leaving Joe’s ears ringing as he blinks the burning sparks from his eyes.

He grunts, squirming. He let’s go of Corey’s cock, catches his thick wrist, and pulls. Corey rolls onto him, pulling his suit out of the way so he can rub his cock against Joey’s bare skin. Joey lets him, gasping his breath back as Corey sucks bruise onto the skin under his jaw. His cock is like a brand on Joey’s skin, slick with Joey’s spit and Corey’s own sweat. Joey feels it catch on his hip and Corey gasps softly. Joey curls his hands into the fabric of Corey’s suit. Corey grunts. His skin’s hot; his flushed cheek burning against Joey’s. Corey’s moaning, mumbling into Joey’s hair. His hand clamps on Joey’s thigh as his mouth latches onto his neck. 

Joey gasps, feeling the sting of Corey’s teeth digging into his flesh. Corey goes sharply still, and Joey can feel him coming hot on his stomach. Corey gives a low moan, hips twitching as he shudders through the orgasm. Joey puts a hand on the back of his head, squeezing for a moment before pushing on his shoulder to make him get up. 

‘Shit,’ Corey says sitting back and looking at the mess he’s made of Joey. He pulls his sleeve down over his hand, beginning to blot at the come Joey’s skin and only succeed in smearing it worse. Joey hisses as Corey rubs the rough fabric over the sensitive skin below his navel. 

‘Stop, just — fuck — _stop_ ,’ Joey says, sitting up to push Corey off him. Joey zips his suit; it’s already stained from the show and he doesn’t give a fuck. ‘C’mon, I wanna shower,’ he says when he sees Corey staring at him, light still reflecting glassily off his eyes. Corey stares at him for a moment longer, before leaning forward and pressing his lips firmly to Joey’s. 

Joey’s sort of surprised, but he kisses Corey back. He’s unexpectedly gentle, hand coming up to cup the back of Joey's head. Just as quickly as it had started Corey breaks the kiss. He wriggles back without a word and clambers back down the scaffolding. Joey watches as he retrieves his mask and makes his way towards the noise of the after-party coming from the back of the stage. 

Joey lets out a heavy breath. He needs a fucking cigarette. 

**Author's Note:**

> First Joey fic of the year 🙌🏼


End file.
